


Festivals, fireworks and foreshadowing

by Ilya_Boltagon



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Annatar is a good liar, Celebrimbor is not a good childminder, Dwarves, Fireworks, Foreshadowing, Foresighted Celebrían, Gen, Midsummer celebrations, Sneaking Out, Underage Drinking, Young Celebrían
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilya_Boltagon/pseuds/Ilya_Boltagon
Summary: Midway through the Second Age, a young Celebrían talks Celebrimbor into taking her to the Dwarves' Midsummer festivities outside the safety of Ost-in-Edhil, leading to their first encounter with the mysterious, beguiling Annatar.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Annatar | Sauron, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Celebrían (Tolkien), Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Narvi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 29





	Festivals, fireworks and foreshadowing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mornen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mornen/gifts).



> First line prompt by mornen:
> 
> '“Celebrían, they're starting!”
> 
> Celebrían grabbed her wrap and ran outside into the summer night; she had never seen fireworks before.'

“Celebrían, they're starting!”

Celebrían grabbed her wrap and ran outside into the summer night; she had never seen fireworks before. Much to her relief, her parents were celebrating Midsummer with the Sindar who dwelled here in Ost-in-Edhil, deep in the nearby woods, and they should be gone all night.

Her cousin-of-sorts, Celebrimbor, was tapping his foot on the ground impatiently by the time she had reached him. “Come along! The Dwarves do not take kindly to those who arrive late to their festivities. If we do not hurry, we may not be invited again.”

“Alright, I am moving as fast as I can!” The young elleth huffed. Celebrimbor rolled his eyes, taking her arm and tugging her along with him.

“I do not know how I let you talk me into this. You're too young to attend the Naugrim's festivities, little cousin, and your parents will flay me alive if they find out.”

Celebrían turned pleading eyes on him as they dashed through the streets to the city gates, heading for the stone quarry where the Dwarves celebrated Midsummer. “But you spoke so highly of the fireworks they use at their festivals. How could you not then expect me to wish to see them for myself?”

“It's what will happen _after_ the fireworks that concerns me.” Celebrimbor muttered as they linked arms, nodding to the guards manning the gates, and slipped past them. “Just stay close to me. And do _not_ drink any of the Naugrim's beer. It is much too strong for an Elfling. Understood?”

Celebrían nodded, her expression demure, while silently planning to sneak off and explore the first chance she got. She was never permitted to leave Ost-in-Edhil's walls alone, and now that she had done so, she wished to look around, without an adult watching her every move. She remained close to Celebrimbor as he greeted the Dwarves in their own language, rumbling and hard to comprehend, like listening to a slow rockfall. A loud explosion above her head made her cling tighter to his arm, stifling a shriek.

There was gruff laughter from the Dwarves at her reaction, and belatedly her eyes registered the beautiful array of colored sparks in the sky, and her face reddened. So, this was a firework. Celebrimbor could have given more warning about just how loud they would be! Releasing his arm, she stepped away from him, wearing her best 'haughty' expression (one she had learned from her mother) as she kept her eyes on the remaining fireworks. They were indeed wondrous! Somehow, the gunpowder exploded into all manner of shapes: spinning wheels, golden fountains, flower-like shapes, shooting stars that let out a high-pitched 'wheeee!' sound prior to exploding and cascading down towards them... Entranced by the sights and sounds, her feet carried her further from her cousin and his in-depth conversation with the Dwarf Narvi, grinning to herself when Celebrimbor seemed to notice nothing. The fireworks continued overhead, and when they finally ceased, she began exploring, listening to the music and singing of the Dwarves gathered around various fires, trying to discern what they were saying, with little success. Watching what appeared to be a dance, albeit a clumsy one to her eyes, the music, fast as it was, ensnared her feet, and she found herself joining in, laughing, catching the hand of one dwarf, then another, and another, passed around until she felt dizzy and out of breath. She took the heavy tankard that was shoved into her hands without heed, drinking deeply from it without glancing at the contents, draining it in a few swallows.

She regretted that seconds later as her tongue and throat caught alight, and an acrid, burning sensation shot up her nose, bringing tears of pain to her eyes. Choking and spluttering, she spat out what she had swallowed, wishing desperately for water to rid her mouth of the vile taste.

Some soft fabric appeared from somewhere, wiping her face dry. “That was ill-advised, young one.” The low, silky voice was chiding her, and yet Celebrían found herself wishing to hear it again. Blinking to clear her vision, she stifled a gasp at the tall being before her. He was stunning!

At first glance, he seemed to be an Elf, albeit with unusual red-gold hair and eyes to match, and a height greater even than her own parents, but his skin almost glistened with a luster she had never seen before. Entranced by his eyes, she found herself stepping closer, feeling as if she could gaze into those molten-gold pools forever.

“Celebrian!” Celebrimbor's shout startled her out of her reverie as he ran towards her, and she turned to face him. “Did I not _tell_ you to stay at my side if I brought you along? This is not Ost-in-Edhil, child, your safety is not guaranteed here!”

The maybe-elf that stood before them chuckled softly. “Come now, Curufinion, I am sure you were just as eager for excitement in your youth as this lovely child is. I assure you, she faces no peril from me.”

Celebrían bit her lip nervously, shooting a glance up at her cousin. He had never liked reminders of his adar: how would he react now?

Celebrimbor tugged Celebrían closer, slipping a protective arm around her shoulders, eyeing the stranger. “And just who might you be? As you know my identity, you should do me the courtesy of revealing your own.”

“Of course, how foolish of me.” The being bowed low, one hand pressed to his breast. “I am Annatar, a... traveller from other lands.”

“And what brings you so close to Ost-in-Edhil, 'Lord of Gifts'?”

Annatar's red-gold eyes locked on Celebrimbor. “In truth, I came to seek you out. I have some small knowledge of smith-work and crafting, learned long ago in fair Valinor, and thought to share my expertise. For who has not heard of the great skill of the last descendant of Fëanor? I believe we could learn much from one another.” He paused, and to Celebrían, it looked like he was choosing his words carefully. “I did attempt to visit Mithlond, to offer my teaching there, but it seems King Gil-Galad and Lord Elrond are wary of strangers, and I was not permitted to enter the city.”

He was lying, Celebrían suddenly realized. Or... not _lying_ , as such, but he was not telling the whole truth. Suddenly, his beautiful face and eyes, which had been so alluring, now looked like a mask of sorts, hiding what lay beneath. A shiver ran down her spine, and she edged backwards, trying to pull Celebrimbor with her, wanting to leave the company of this unsettling Annatar.

Celebrimbor, however, looked intrigued. His gaze was fixed on Annatar, and he scarcely seemed to notice Celebrían's trying to pull him away. “It is strange indeed that the King would not permit a teacher of craft into Mithlond...”

Annatar bowed his head. “I am sure that His Majesty only does what he believes best for his people. I will not force my presence where it is not welcome.”

Celebrimbor squared his shoulders. “Well, I will not waste an opportunity for learning. I have established a guild of craftsmen in Ost-in-Edhil. We call ourselves the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, and we would welcome the wisdom of one such as you.” Only then did he seem to remember Celebrían's presence. “I think I should escort my young cousin home, but then I will return to speak further with you, if you are willing, my Lord?”

Annatar smiled, his eyes gleaming. Celebrían shuddered, reminded of a wolf sizing up prey, for some reason. “But of course. I will see you soon, my friend.”

“Indeed. Come along, Celebrían.” Celebrimbor led her away before she had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

She felt Annatar's eyes piercing into them as they left, and fought the urge to whimper. “You shouldn't trust him, Celebrimbor. He is not what he seems.” How she was so certain of this, she had no idea. “He is lying about what he wants.”

Celebrimbor shook his head at her as he hurried her back into the city, and through the streets to her home. “Do not be foolish, Celebrían. I told you not to sample the Naugrim's beer, it has addled your thoughts.”

“It has not!” But she stumbled over something at that very moment, and went scarlet.

“Of course not, cousin.” Celebrimbor sighed. “Now, go inside and stay there. Provided you do not take ill tomorrow from the beer, your parents need never know that you visited the Naugrim's festival. I will not speak of it, and then you will escape punishment for leaving the city. And your father won't murder me either.” This last was spoken more softly, and Celebrían suspected she wasn't meant to have heard that. He gave her a firm push over the threshold of her home, making sure she was indoors before turning to leave.

“Celebrimbor?” Celebrían hated how her voice was shaking. “Please... don't listen to Annatar. Don't bring him into the city. _Please._ ” The very thought of such a thing happening made dread course through her stomach, making her feel ill.

“Celebrian, your wits are addled by drink, you do not know what you are saying. Annatar is naught to fear. Go and rest, you will feel better, I promise.” Without another word, Celebrimbor was gone, leaving Celebrían alone, standing in the doorway helplessly, the floor swaying as if she stood upon the deck of a ship, forcing her to grip the doorframe to keep her balance.

Perhaps she _was_ somewhat drunk, how was she to know how it felt? But still, Celebrimbor's every step away, back to Annatar, seemed to echo like a cloud of doom.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time attempting to write anything in this Age, with any of these characters. I hope it isn't terrible!


End file.
